Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen hopefully. “You can?”
“If your uncle is okay with you missing school today.”
“That’s not fair,” Olivia gripes as she walks into the kitchen. “I have to go to school because I didn’t chop off my own hair?”
Ignoring her jab, Charlotte and I both look at Carter, who shrugs. “I don’t care.” He gives Olivia a sharp look. “I’m going to finish my shower now. No more cooking. You guys can have cereal for breakfast.”
“I’ll make breakfast for them. Do you guys want French toast?”
It’s one of the few things they all agree on every time I offer it.
Carter stalks back toward the stairway, and I can’t resist a quick glance at his broad back. Which isn’t just broad but also muscular. And maybe he’s not stalking, but it sure seems that way because of his size and his mood.
I crack the kitchen windows to let in some fresh air and start gathering the ingredients for French toast. I always follow the recipe I learned from my mom, mixing up eggs, milk, flour, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla. Just the smell of the ingredients reminds me of my childhood.
Olivia is packing herself a lunch to take to school and Charlotte is organizing a folder of papers when Hallie blurts out, “I saw Uncle Carter’s butt.”
I turn to her, amused. She’s covering her mouth with her hand and giggling.
“Gross, Hallie,” Charlotte mutters.
Hallie continues in a loud whisper, undeterred. “There’s hair on his butt.”
“Ew.” Olivia glares at her younger sister.
“Suki, do all boys have hair on their butts?” Hallie asks me.
I never thought I’d be discussing that with a six-year-old. “Some do. We’re all made differently.”
“Do girls have hair on their butts?”
“Hallie.” Olivia gives her an exasperated glare. “Enough.”
I set the first piece of dipped bread into a hot pan. “It’s okay to be curious. Most women don’t have hair on their butts, no.”
“Do you?”
I pretend to peek in the back of my black leggings. “Nope.”
Hallie is so sweet. It hurts my heart that she lost her mom so young. Of the three girls, Hallie is the one I can tell craves hugs and kisses the most, so I make sure to give her lots of hugs and I kiss the top of her head every time I drop her off at school and leave the house for the day.
“Nancy isn’t as nice as you,” Charlotte says a few minutes later, the four of us sitting around the table.
I had a protein shake at home, so I’m sipping coffee while they eat their French toast. “Who’s Nancy?”
“She’s the lady who comes over when you’re busy,” Hallie says.
“The weekend nanny,” Olivia explains. “She was here Saturday.”
“She’s on her phone all the time and she makes gross food.” Charlotte wrinkles her nose.
Carter walks into the kitchen, carrying a packed duffel bag and dressed in black shorts and a gray hoodie with his team name and logo on it. He pours coffee into a travel mug and then looks over at me.
“You’ve got the schedule for the week from the agency. I’ll be back on Thursday.”
Hallie gets up and runs over to hug him, pressing her cheek to his stomach. “Good luck, Uncle Carter. I hope you win.”
He pats her on the head, looking uncomfortable. “We’ll give it our best shot.”
I don’t get how anyone could do anything but melt into a puddle when Hallie looks at them with those big brown eyes. It’s all I can do not to open my arms and offer her a hug myself.
Hallie lets go of him and he picks up his travel mug and his bag, slinging the bag over his shoulder so he can grab his car keys. “See you guys later.”
And that’s it--he walks out the door and closes it behind him. I hold back an urge to roll my eyes. Anyone with a heartbeat should be able to give a better goodbye than that to three grieving little girls. He didn’t even make eye contact with them.
A quick glance at the clock reminds me I don’t have time to lament Carter’s lack of warmth right now. “Hey girls, we need to get going. One minute to finish up and get your dishes into the sink, okay?”
I send a quick text to Carter, reminding him to call Charlotte’s school to have her excused for the day, making sure I include the phone number, which I have on a list of emergency phone numbers for the girls on my phone.
Hopefully he can spare a minute from his busy day to do that.
This time, I do roll my eyes.
“It’s so cool,” Charlotte gushes later that day. “I love it.”
She hasn’t stopped smiling since we left my hair stylist Andi’s salon. Andi came in on her day off when I texted her and gave Charlotte a pixie crop and light-pink color. Her bangs still look unintentional, but it’s much better than before.